


Afterimage

by ChasetheSun2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Ghosts, Memory Magic, Spirit Guides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 03:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheSun2/pseuds/ChasetheSun2
Summary: You know in photographs? How you sometimes see a ghosty type thing but it's just an afterimage?Harry Potter destroyed the diary three weeks ago, and he thought he'd destroyed the occupant as well. But as usual, Harry is wrong, and also very unlucky, because a young Tom Riddle has made it his sole purpose in unlife to follow him around and torment him.





	Afterimage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laurasauras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/gifts).



> For Laura, who supplied the summary quote, the title, and the encouragement.

“Is this what you call a room?”

Harry woke with a start. The voice had come out of nowhere, whispering and nearly silent, just enough of a noise to wake him. 

He sat up. The rest of number four, Privet Drive was as silent as the grave - well, as silent as the house ever got at night. Harry’s open window let in a soft breeze that carried the clink of wind chimes and the soft chirp of crickets from the garden below. Uncle Vernon’s deep, rumbling snores and the nasally whistle of Aunt Petunia’s shallow breaths carried under the locked door and across the hall to Harry’s room. Everything seemed normal for a moment, and Harry was certain it was just a dream, until--

“Hello? Over here.”

It took him a moment to scrabble for his glasses and tug them onto his face, squinting at his room with drooping eyelids. The exhaustion easily shook itself away, however, when he spotted the something that had invaded his personal space. Or rather, someone. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle stood in the corner of his room, arms folded, leaning against his closet door. 

“ _ You, _ ” Harry breathed. 

“Me,” Tom replied, quirking up an eyebrow. 

But Harry wasn’t too keen on the saucy tone. The memory of the Chamber of Secrets and his best friend Ron’s sister Ginny’s near-death not even three weeks ago still clung to his mind. Without a second thought he scrambled from under his bed covers and reached for his wand - only to find it wasn’t there. He’d forgotten himself for a moment. This wasn’t his dormitory, this was the Dursley’s, and all his magical equipment as usual had been locked away in the cupboard under the stairs. 

It was with a vengeance this year that he’d been all but jailed in his room, let out only to do the yardwork and the dishes, and shut back in again. The Dursleys hadn’t forgotten his fantastic escape the year before, and frankly, he was paying for it tenfold this summer. He almost wished that they’d waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley or even Dumbledore to come get him, instead. 

His face fell and he floundered, staring from his empty nightstand to Tom, who hadn’t moved. If anything, he was just waiting somehow, watching Harry with a look that was slowly growing closer and closer to bored with every passing second.    
  
Finally, Harry managed to find words. “What are you doing here?” He demanded. “I thought I-”

“You thought you killed me, yes, I thought you had too,” Tom cut him off, inspecting his nails. It sent a little jolt of irritation cutting straight through the fear and anger immobilizing Harry. “The book was destroyed, you certainly did a good job of that, don’t you worry. One horcrux down, many to go. And yet, I’m still here.”

“One what? No-” Harry shook his head. “No, this isn’t real. You’re just - I’m dreaming, that’s all, this is all just another nightmare.”

“Oho, dreaming about me?” That wasn’t at all what Harry had meant, and he was about to tell him that, but the gleeful look on the teen’s face was too much to stomach. He clenched his teeth and scowled. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’m only joking. Don’t be so serious.”

“You nearly killed Ginny.” Harry spat. “I’ll decide what I find funny, thank you.”

“Fine, fine.” Tom waved a hand at him. “You still haven’t answered my question, anyhow. You call this a bedroom?”

Tom looked around them. Harry’s room wasn’t untidy by any means, but it wasn’t exactly neat, either. Books that were dog-eared and worn from years of reading and re-reading covered his windowsill and dresser, of which his few clothes hung out, haphazardly folded. Hedwig’s cage, now empty as she’d gone out on her nightly flight, stood on the windowsill as well. His twin bed, much too tiny for him in his nearing adolescence, was covered in moth-eaten and thin blankets that he’d had to scrounge from the very back of the broom closet. The carpeted floor was neatly kept and vaccumed, just as Aunt Petunia demanded of him every morning when she screeched at him to clean. 

It wasn’t much, but it was the one place where Harry had peace and quiet while he was at the Dursleys’, and for that he was grateful. He certainly wasn’t about to take any abuse about it from the translucent boy still smirking at him from his closet door. 

“At least I’ve got a bedroom,” He said, rather venomously. 

Tom’s smug expression twitched for a moment into one of foul displeasure. For that one moment, it was easy to see how the handsome young boy with his tar-black curls could become Voldemort later on in life. But then, the look was gone, and the boyish smirk was back. 

“That’s low, Harry,” He hissed, and the words were like ice. His smile didn’t fit his pretty looks at all and it made Harry shudder. “I’m almost impressed.” 

Harry wanted to retort, but for the second time that night found he had nothing to say. Exhaustion was beginning to creep up along his eyelids again, tugging them down over his eyes and instead of words, a long yawn left him. Tom tutted, shaking his head and folding his arms. “Shame, shame, Harry. You really shouldn’t be out of bed this late, you know. Bad for the growing mind.”

“You’re the one that got me out of bed in the first place!” Harry said indignantly. 

Tom raised both brows at his tone. It was a bit too loud, it seemed, because Uncle Vernon next door gave a snort and grumbled something about ‘that blasted boy’. The ice that’d been crawling up his spine from Tom’s smirk began to suddenly zoom throughout his whole body, flooding his veins, and he swallowed, looking at the spectre again, making a shooing motion at it. “Go away!”

“Why should I?” Tom asked, malice twinkling in his eyes. “I’d so love to give that muggle a good scare.”

“He won’t be scared of  _ you _ ,” Harry said urgently, climbing back into bed as swiftly and silently as he could. He could hear heavy footsteps making the floorboards in the hall creak and his heart gave a funny sort of jolt that he wouldn’t be surprised to find out was actually a heart attack.  “He hates magic! If he could find a way to grab you and chuck you out, he would!”

Tom pursed his lips, annoyed. Upon hearing that his tactics wouldn’t work on the bullheaded Uncle Vernon, he turned and vanished, somehow gliding through Harry’s closet just as the door opened. 

Vernon poked his bright red, mustachioed face into Harry’s room, looking like a moldy beet that someone had put into a compressor. In the darkness, Harry’s eyes snapped shut and he pretended to be asleep, not daring to move or even breathe while his uncle glared. Seeing that Harry was clearly, or at least as clearly as Vernon could see, unable to make noise, he grumbled again and closed the door with a click, going back to bed. The floorboards creaked again and there was the quiet mumble of Vernon’s and Petunia’s voices for a moment before the relative silence fell across the house once more.

Harry sighed with relief, opening his eyes to check for any signs of the ghost. There were none. Hedwig swooped into the room, hopping into her cage with a contented hoot, and Harry gave her a tired smile. She didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, though, still gorging herself on her dinner. As it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant sight, he closed his eyes again. 

He didn’t have to wait long. The utter fatigue that’d been plaguing him all night since his fright claimed him quickly, and Harry Potter was fast asleep in moments.


End file.
